Ties That Bind
by Marc D
Summary: Sometimes a bond can form between yourself and someone you hardly even know
1. Chapter 1

Author: Marc D.

Title: Ties That Bind

Rating: Nothing worse than the show

Disclaimer: I own nothing

AN: I messed with the timelines so that they now mesh how I want them too.

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Clark tossed the football a few feet above his head, catching it with a carefree smile as it fell into his hands. His life, while extremely complicated, was beginning to look a little bit better every day.

Just recently he had joined the school's football team, even going so far as to gain his father's acceptance and guidance when all was said and done. He was now their starting quarterback. He had his teammates' respect; and they had just won their first big game.

Clark tugged slightly on his Smallville High varsity football Jacket. His friends kept telling him that the jacket simply didn't have his colors. Those colors being red and yellow, with a stylish 'S' on the left breast, but he had told his friends that those were the 'school colors.' And, while he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he actually thought those colors looked nice on him. But that would go with him to his grave.

His grin widened into a smile as he overlooked his backyard, otherwise known as farmland. He couldn't help but to remember his game winning 60-yard pass. As he looked over the open field he tossed the ball, into the night air, as he had done earlier, during the game.

It was like he was living it again. However, unlike last time, he was the one running after the ball. With inhuman speed, he raced after the throw. However, unlike the game earlier, there had not been immense solar flares suddenly shooting from the sun.

Scientists wouldn't notice the presence of the solar flare until a short time after it had occurred. The same couldn't be said for the young man currently running at high speeds after the football he had just thrown.

Being supercharged by the immense burst of energy granted by the solar flare, Clark Kent blurred out of Smallville and had traveled a great distance before his pass even touched the ground of the empty field.

Clark had already had the unfortunate experience of being supercharged by solar flares. When they had last occurred, his ability to control his hyped up abilities were almost nil. And that was even after they had figured out what was going on, and he had been forced to take extra care, and extra precautions when moving but a muscle.

This time, however, the solar flare had caught him completely unawares. By the time the immense influx in power had bled through his system, and he was able to focus on the blurring landscape, he began to put all of his concentration on making his limbs stop moving at such a quickened pace.

By the time he was able to get his limbs under control, while thanking whatever deity was out there that he had not collided with anyone, or anything, he began to wonder just where in the hell he was.

It was unfortunate that he was closer to the mark than he would have expected. The warmer climate may not have warned him, but the fact that he had stopped in a graveyard, one of many, may have clued him in.

Clark looked around the desolate graveyard. Not just the graveyard, but also the surrounding areas looked completely deserted. He cautiously used his senses, trying to locate some sign that someone was around. He had to stifle a sigh. Not even a heartbeat in the immediate area. Well, none besides his own. The only lead that he had to go on was a muffled noise, from what he assumed to be a club, a fair distance away.

Now letting out a sigh, Clark began to wander out of the graveyard and towards, what he hoped was, civilization. Perhaps there would be a newspaper stand, or phone book on his way there. There had to be something that would tell him where he was. He also needed to contact his parents and tell them to call him in sick for tomorrow. He wasn't sure how long it would take to get home, but he was fairly certain it wouldn't be done in one long run. And even though it had been exhilarating flying when he had been Kal-el, he had no desire to repeat that performance, even if he could, he still wasn't too fond of heights. With that thought in mind he began to make his way quietly and with purpose.

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Sunnydale

Xander had just said goodnight to his two best friends. He was glad that both Buffy and Cordelia were fine. Even if Cordelia barely gave him the time of day, he couldn't think of anyone he would rather throw barbs back and forth with.

Buffy had saved both herself and Cordelia from becoming sacrifices to some sort of Lizard demon boy, named Machida, or something similar. Not that it mattered now that it was dead.

Xander shook his head at the events that had transpired. 'Stupid frat boys, you'd think college guys would be smart. Or at least smarter!' Xander was concentrated on his musings while semi-unconsciously remaining in the artificial light created by the streetlights. He still didn't want to think about Buffy drinking that night. 'Beer bad.' That was definitely a good way to think. He prayed that he would never have that sort of problem. Just living with his parents had made alcohol something of a demon all in itself. He hoped it never spread to his friends as well.

A brief glimpse of red brought him out of his musings. Down the street, someone was walking in his direction. Though the man was on the other side of the road, and even though he looked to be only a year or two older than him, you could never be too careful. What he saw next made his heart stop. There were vampires, plural, and they were advancing on the unaware man in red. Xander's heart almost stopped cold when the man turned around and actually greeted the vampires behind him. 'Boy, won't he be shocked when they go into game face.' Before he even realized what was happening, Xander was sprinting towards the soon to be fight, or what was more likely to be a slaughter, with a stake in one hand and a cross in the other.

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Clark had been wandering in the general direction the noise was coming from. With every step he took, the mix of music and chatter became stronger. He sighed to himself as he looked around. It looked like a nice little town. Yea, this was definitely a nice and quiet place where nothing happens; not like Smallville. Hell, he doubted this place could sport a 'wall of weird' that Chloe had not only filled, but also had articles overlapping each other. Clark smiled to himself. It may be nice to visit here some other time. Some rest and relaxation might be nice.

Clark was brought out of his musings as he saw someone. The guy had to be a year or two younger than him, but he would still have the information he needed. Though, explaining why he needed it may be somewhat difficult, but he'd think of something.

More than once he had thought he heard footsteps behind him, but they had been far too light to be an actual person. He looked behind him once, but saw nothing, and when concentrating on listening for breathing or a heartbeat, he heard nothing of the sort. Finding nothing he had written it off to hearing things, perhaps an effect of the solar flare.

But as he saw the kid walking towards him, he once again heard the shuffle of feet and quickly turned around. He was extremely surprised to see 6 guys dressed all in dark clothes. 'How could they have gotten that close to me without me hearing it? And why don't I hear any heartbeats?' Clark had the feeling that his earlier musings were going to come back and bite him in the ass. 'Perhaps this place wasn't quite so normal after all.' He took a step forward, intent on confronting them and finding out what was going on, when their faces completely shifted.

Their foreheads became ridged. Their eyes turned into a horrible golden red that he simply didn't want to contemplate. Their hands were no longer as such. Now their fingers ended in sharp looking claws. And one other thing that caught Clark's attention was the fact that they no longer had normal teeth. Oh no, now they had FANGS!

Clark shook his head and could only come up with one thought. 'No way; vampires can't be real!' He truly didn't have time to contemplate that thought as the 'things' charged him.

Compared to his abilities, these 'vampires' moved like they were swimming through molasses. However, he didn't know what was really going on, so hurting them was out of the question. He had been a part of far too many odd occurrences to jump to conclusions. Though, he had to admit, these things went from looking like a normal, pale individual, to looking truly demonic. But he still had to be careful; doubly so since he wasn't sure if there would be any more solar activity. He needed more information. However, upon reflection at a later date, he would find himself cursing at just how he got that information.

Clark had been easily avoiding the swipes, and lunges, that these things were sending his way; when, out of nowhere, a blur passed by him. While not moving at superhuman speeds, the kid that he had been approaching earlier tackled one of these 'vampires.'

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Xander rolled with the tackle and forced his stake into the demon's heart. Before the stake could dust with the vampire, he pulled it out. He glanced to his right to see the guy in red staring with wide eyes at what he had just done. Without even time to yell out a warning of what they were dealing with, another vampire sucker punched the mystery man in red.

Xander was somewhat shocked to see the guy shuffle his feet a pace and a half. Though, from his expression it was more the unexpectedness of the attack, rather than the force behind it, that had caused that semi-stumble. Well, there was that, and the fact that the vampire was clutching his hand and wailing in extreme pain clued him that something weird was going on. However, Xander didn't have time to contemplate on that as two more vampires neared his position.

Clark watched in mute horror as two of those VAMPIRES approached the young man who was trying to save him. The kid actually warded off one of the vampires with a cross. Well, he attempted to. In an apparent display of boldness, the vampire swatted the cross out of the boy's hand. The sound of sizzling flesh could be heard, and the smell was nauseating to Clark's enhanced senses.

The other vampire took advantage of the kid's momentary shock. With a speed that was far superior to a normal person, he had advanced on the kid. With a flick of the vampire's hand the stake sailed out of the young man's hand, and unfortunately for the vampires, landed only a foot away from Clark.

Before the stake had reached its final destination, the vampire had his other hand around the young man's throat. With little effort the vampire had the kid dangling, his feet not even coming close to touching the ground. As the vampire was holding the kid in the air, the other vampire, who had swatted the cross away, approached the hapless victim while clenching and unclenching his already healed hand.

With two quick swipes of his claws, the vampire opened numerous, deep gashed that began to bleed profusely. They began to laugh at the kid's choked moans of pain. The vampire let the kid drop to the ground, where the young man immediately clutched at his sides, his clothes quickly becoming stained from the blood gushing from the claw strikes.

Before he truly knew what had happened, Clark had retrieved the stake from the ground and was crouching in front of the wounded boy. The kid looked like he was having trouble staying conscious. With every passing second his face was becoming paler, his breathing more strained, and his heartbeat slightly more erratic. Yet, somehow, the kid still managed to speak.

In a rasped whisper he spoke, "Vamps, stake…through…heart. Don't gasp let gasp stake gasp dust with gasp vamp." With that last strained statement the kid's eyes rolled back, and the kid began to slip away.

'Christ they must have hit something in him.' Clark was seething on the inside. This kid had run to his aide, and now he may die. He stood from his kneeling position and regarded the vampires with narrowed eyes.

He was a blur; before the first vampire had registered the sharp pain in his chest, the last vampire had been staked. And before the vampires began to turn into dust he was kneeling at the side of the young man.

He needed to stop the bleeding. He gently lifted the kid's blood soaked shirt. As he delicately used his heat vision, praying that any solar activity was done for the foreseeable future, the wounds bleeding began to subside. He had to hand it to the kid; not once did he even stir. Once the wounds were no longer bleeding, he took off his varsity jacket and wrapped it around the kid.

Concentrating harder than he had ever done to date, he used any and every sense to locate the nearest hospital. It only took a few moments of overlaying his senses, but after those few moments, he was sure that he had found it.

Once again, he gently lifted the wounded kid into his arms. Again, praying for no more solar activity, he ran as fast as he could towards the hospital.

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In no time at all he found himself at the hospital. With very little questions asked, the nurses and orderlies took the unconscious man that he had 'found' outside. He quickly made his way to another side of the building. Now that he knew where he was, he had to call home and figure out how he was going to back to Smallville. But, before he could leave, he had to make sure that the kid was going to pull through.

Clark knew there was nothing more that he could do for this unnamed boy. But he had to stick around, pray if nothing else. After what he saw tonight, perhaps prayer wouldn't be such a bad idea. And if nothing else, they would rifle through his belongings, call in people who knew him, and then Clark would at least learn the young man's name.

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Calling his worried parents had gone well. They would make excuses while he made his way back home. He had enough money in his wallet, which was thankfully located in his pants, and not in the jacket he was never going to see again, to get a bus ride home. Well, close enough that could make the last leg of the journey himself.

It was a little over an hour later that two girls, around the boy's age, and a man wearing a tweed suit, came barreling into the hospital. From the physical description the man was giving, not to mention the description of the clothes the kid had been wearing, given by the blonde girl, Clark had learned that the kid's name was Xander. Clark shook his head with a small smile on his face. 'What kind of name is Xander?'

It was a few hours later. The small group of friends, perhaps family, had been quietly talking about what had perhaps transpired. Clark had wanted to go over and shake that blonde girl, Buffy; he had heard her called 'Buffy.' She made it sound as though the kid had been ambushed, or attacked by a lone vampire. And he thought the name Xander was weird. Who name's their kid 'Buffy'?

That question was answered about thirty minutes later when Buffy's mother came rushing into the hospital, engulfing her daughter, and her daughter's friend, into caring arms. The man who had accompanied the girls observed the scene quietly, with a slight look of adoration on his face at the scene in front of him. A small smile crept onto Clark's face, yet throughout it all he couldn't fathom that woman naming her daughter Buffy.

Getting back on topic, even though he could hear the concern; he could tell that they were all near tears from the entire situation. To Clark, Xander had still waded into that situation to save his life. He didn't like the fact that the kid was being shortchanged. He just hoped the girl apologized when the kid pulled through; if he pulled through.

It was an hour later when they finally got a doctor to come and see them. By that time the red head, Willow, and let's not comment on that name, had already bawled her eyes out. This started Buffy with her crying. The English gentleman, Giles, seemed to be their rock and their father figure during this trying time. And for that, Clark found himself grateful. His sensitive hearing picked up the English man's kind words on the young hero. He had given the girls, and unknowingly Clark, the emotional support needed to wait out the prolonged waiting time.

Clark wasn't sure what was going on. It shouldn't have taken this long. And when they had been told that the doctors they had on call tonight were being kept extremely busy with other patients, which was why they hadn't been able to come out and tell them Xander's condition, the others simply accepted that and waited as well as they could. Though, on more than a few occasions, Buffy had to be talked down from storming back there and find out what had happened to her 'Xander-shaped friend.' That placed her up a few notches from where her earlier comments about how he may have wound up in here.

The doctor had come out and profusely apologized for keeping them waiting for so long. It seemed that Xander would be fine. He would need quite a few days of bed rest, but he would ultimately be fine. The doctor couldn't explain how the wounds had been sealed. It was as if a source of heat had done the job, but there were no burn marks, no scorched skin. There was only a sealed wound.

The doctor went on to tell them how they had reopened the wounds and checked for any internal injuries. After finding nothing that was life threatening, they had resealed, stitched, and dressed the wounds.

Xander was still asleep, and would remain under observation for the night. But he would be free to go home tomorrow afternoon; anytime before dark. Clark was slightly shocked to find out that the kid's parents vehemently refused to come down and either see, or retrieve their son. He was further shocked to learn that Xander had this 'Mr. Giles' listed as an emergency contact. So, apparently Xander would be released into Giles' care for however long. Though Clark was extremely confused about the relationship between these people when he overheard the doctor reading off the man's information, and it had him listed as the school librarian.

Clark decided not to question it anymore. He had been dead wrong. He couldn't wait to get back to Smallville. He had to suppress a shudder as he left the hospital with a particular thought on his mind. 'I can't wait to go back to Smallville. Compared to this place, home is actually normal.'

Clark would have liked to suppress the memories of this place. He knew there was no way he was going to tell anyone about what happened here. Not even his parents would ever learn about the existence of the demons that roamed the streets of this 'quiet little town.' He resigned himself to keeping this secret unless it became a situation that would affect his family. And, as much as he would like to repress this past night, he knew he never would.

No, he would never let himself do that. Knowing that there were things like this out there was a frightening thought. Knowing that there were people like Xander, and perhaps even his friends, gave him hope. He would have to come back here from time to time. He would do it, if for no other reason, than to check up on Xander from time to time. He had grown to like, and most definitely respect, the boy a few years his junior. The kid had bled for him; that sort of thing forms a bond.


	2. Chapter 2

With the exception of getting hurt, the past two weeks may have in fact been the best in Xander's life. However, when you take into account that he had woken up in a hospital, and learned that his parents simply refused to basically admit that he was alive, it was hard to imagine his life getting much worse. True, it would be hard to imagine, but not impossible; lest we tempt fate. As it turns out, these recent events turned out to be a turning point in his life; one that he would whole-heartedly agree was for the better.

At first Xander didn't know what to make of the situation. Apparently, the morning after Xander's parents refused to make an appearance at the hospital, Giles, along with Joyce, paid a visit to casa Del Harris.

While neither adult would state just what had been spoken that morning (though Xander had a fair idea of what was said), it was decided that he would no longer be living in that abusive environment. It was something that both parties agreed on.

Joyce had been quite vocal in her desire to bring them to court, and have their asses hauled off to jail. That statement, from a woman who in one single year managed to be more of a mother to him than his own, actually made him blush. After the blushing had died down, though, the overwhelming feeling of shame began to dominate his emotions.

He felt the shame of this dark secret, his family life, coming out in the open. He had always felt that the relationship he had with his parents, their inability to love him, and his inability to get their love, made him less of a man. Now, to have that in the open, he wanted to crawl within himself. Beyond that, that feeling of shame was only compounded when he realized that he was about to become a burden to someone else. He had tried to tell everyone that everything was all right; all the while he began to withdraw into himself. It was a process that would never have a chance to make itself whole.

While he had been able to hide, quite well, most of his emotions and the troubles he had experienced at home, now that they, Joyce and Giles, were aware of just how deep those problems went; it wasn't quite so easy to fool them.

Both of them were quick to pound into his thick skull how none of this was his fault. Xander wasn't sure just how much he really believed them, but the firmness and genuine care and emotion in their voices helped to sway him. Giles was next to point out how unbelievably opposite he was to those wretched people. And while Joyce wasn't quite sure how to take his next comment, Giles had told him how, in such a short time, he began to think of Xander, and indeed the rest of the group, as his own children. And after a few words of praise from the usually stuffy librarian, Xander was almost in tears himself.

It became too much for him, however, when Mrs. Summers carefully pulled him into a light embrace, mindful of his injury, and told him how he deserved to be loved and how it was an honest to god miracle that he had turned into the sweet and loving young boy that she would love to call 'son.'

Xander's fear of becoming a burden was also squashed when Giles basically demanded that he live in his spare room. It was something that both he and Joyce had discussed, and while she did have an extra room, it was currently occupied with boxes and had no furniture in it. Giles, on the other hand, had a three bedroom apartment. Both the second room and guest room were fully furnished and there was plenty of room for Xander and his belongings. Due to the fact that Xander needed a place to stay immediately, it was decided that the young man would stay with Giles, unless Xander wanted differently.

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So here Xander sat, on his own bed, in his own room, in his and Giles' apartment. It had been almost two weeks now and he still couldn't believe it. The room was starting to feel more like his, though there were quite a few differences.

This room was quite a bit larger than his old room. It was far cleaner, and Xander intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. The fact that he had done so for almost two weeks mystified even him.

The clothes that now adorned his closet and dresser were not the same he had been wearing for god knows how long. Xander had had absolutely no desire to go and fetch anything from that place that housed his biological parents. Willow, under the supervision of Joyce, had gone to the place to collect a few of Xander's personal items; pictures and various items that now decorated his new room. However, Giles had told him that whatever Xander found himself lacking, he would be happy to provide. Once that got out, Buffy had adamantly refused to allow him access to his old clothes, and had all but burned them. He still figured she was the reason that, of all the stuff Willow had brought, his Hawaiian shirts were not among them. Buffy had 'helped' in selecting his new wardrobe, and while not what he was used to, Xander found himself not really minding. Perhaps it was just another aspect of starting anew.

Xander only winced slightly as he stood up from where he was sitting on his bed. Walking over to the desk, placed at the foot of his bed and running perpendicular to his closet, he ran his hand across the red and yellow varsity jacket hung over the desk's chair.

He still couldn't believe that he had survived that night. He knew next to nothing about the guy that had apparently been able to slay the remaining vampires, not to mention that the guy could take a punch, and then was still able to run him across town to the hospital.

Xander hadn't been sure what to tell his friends about that night. They had to wait until it was just the Scoobs; Buffy was still against letting her mother into this world, which had almost made things more difficult when trying to explain why they all had such a close bond with their high school librarian. Buffy had originally been upset that he would rush into a situation like he did. But she knew, as did they all, that Xander would never have been able to just stand by, especially when someone was going to be killed, or worse.

They didn't know quite what to make of the fact that this mystery man had been able to slay the remaining vampires, get Xander to the hospital, but not know what to do before Xander had told him. Also, the fact that the guy could take a punch from a vampire, stagger only a couple of steps, and apparently dust them all, had put them all on edge. No one knew who this 'Kent' was, or how he had sealed those wounds originally. However, the fact that he had, and the fact that he had rushed Xander to the hospital, put quite a few points in the guy's favor. Now, all they had of him was the varsity jacket. The same varsity jacket than had been placed over the chair facing the desk in Xander's room.

Xander looked up and out the window his desk faced and caught site of Joyce's Jeep. She was driving himself, Buffy, and Willow down to the main part of town. They all needed to buy costumes since Principal Snyder had 'volunteered' them to take a bunch of kids trick-or-treating. Xander wasn't sure how much he really minded. He really liked kids, though in small doses, and it would be nice to go out and walk the streets at night. Giles had assured them that Halloween was one night in the year when you could rest assured there would be no demonic activity. He wasn't sure he understood exactly why that was, but what the hell…

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Xander shook his head as they walked out of the newly opened costume shop, Ethan's. It wasn't that he normally disliked shopping for a costume; he was the $2 King, after all, but the fact that both Buffy and Willow had been gushing over that 'Princess Dress' had made him want to vomit. And, if they didn't stop it soon, he may just do that. There was also the fact that he gone to the shop with only five dollars on him. Not wanting to be a bother to either of his friends, since he still felt somewhat the burden seeing as how he was accepting the good fortune that Giles, and Joyce, seemed to be sending his way, he figured that with a toy gun he could use a set of Army fatigues he had set aside almost a month ago.

Luck, it seemed, was not on his side. Either there were a lot of people who had the same idea of purchasing a toy gun, or the selection of guns that went along with a soldier's fatigues was left wanting. In the end, he had to settle for a police revolver with a generic badge. It was just barely in his price range.

As he walked into his shared apartment, he realized what it was that was to add insult to injury:. the fatigues he had set aside were still in his old room. And there was no way in hell he was going over there to get them. As he walked into his room, he eyed the red and yellow jacket that hung proudly over his desk chair.

It looks like it was up to him to improvise once again.

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Xander idly sat at the table in the library. He sighed as he flipped through another page in one of Giles books. Sure, they could be boring at times, but they still had some seriously cool pictures. With Giles busy doing whatever he does while in his office, Xander was getting pretty bored waiting for Buffy and Willow to arrive, preferably without Snyder on their tail.

Xander stopped to appreciate a rather detailed drawing of a cleansing ceremony practiced by an ancient coven of Wiccans. Startled, he slammed the book closed as the doors to the library opened. Glancing towards the front entrance, his face parted into a smile as he slid the book to the center of the table while standing to greet his friends.

"Buffy, you look fantastic in that costume. I may just have to renounce spandex." He tilted his head to the side as he observed her as she curtseyed. With a smirk firmly in place, he continued, "Though, before I do anything drastic, I think I'll just have to see you in spandex." He nodded. "You know, so I can contrast and compare." Receiving only an undignified snort and an eye-roll, he turned his smile over to his oldest bestest bud.

"Hey Wills, that's a nice 'boo' you got there." She tilted her head to the side and his smile widened. "I always do love the classics."

Willow looked down, thankful that the sheet covered her blushing form. She looked back at him, her curious expression covered by the white sheet.

"Thanks Xan, but weren't you going as a soldier? Why did you decide to dress as a jock?"

"The costume shop was out of guns a soldier would use, so I got this instead." Reaching behind and under the jacket, he pulled out a plastic police pistol and an accompanying blank police badge. "I was going to use the gun with the soldier costume, but then I realized that the fatigues I was planning on wearing were still at my parents' home."

Even Buffy nodded in understanding. There was no way he was stepping one foot into that house, or going anywhere near those pitiful excuses for human beings.

Xander just shrugged. "So, I decided to improvise. I grabbed the jacket, gun and badge, and presto; suddenly, I'm an undercover cop posing as a studly high school jock for my cover."

Both girls chuckled slightly before Buffy responded. "So, you're going to be a high school student with a secret identity?"

Xander smirked at her. "Well, you know how much I love to be original."

"So, should we call you Kent Harris tonight?"

Xander looked over to Willow with a small smile as he shook his head. "I thought they used the last name on these jackets." He shook his head. "You see, this is why I'm not a jock."

He glanced between his two best friends with a small smile. "Actually, Willow, I had already thought of that. And, since I am going as a cop, someone who 'protects' and serves, I figured that I'd use my whole first name." He theatrically rolled his eyes. "You know, seeing as how you hammered into my head that my name means 'Protector of Man' when we were younger."

Xander stood a bit straighter, showing more confidence than his normal posture displayed. "Tonight you can call me Detective Alexander Kent." He looked thoughtful for a moment before amending, "Seeing as how I am undercover, it would probably be better to leave the 'detective out of it, though."

Soon, it was time to go and meet their little rug rats. After yelling their goodbyes to Giles, the trio made their way to find Snyder, and receive their allotment of kids. After a few well placed threats and demeaning comments were handed out, Snyder finally complied and gave them their assignments.

Xander walked up to the group of small pint sized people. He had to smile at the complete innocence, eagerness, and anticipation they all showed. He got down onto one knee, wincing slightly as his still sore body protested the action, and looked at the kids at eye-level.

"Ok, kiddies; gather round while I teach you the fine arts of getting more candy."

He had to chuckle as their eyes grew wide with excitement. He looked at them all in turn, memorizing what everyone was dressed up as so he wouldn't lose track of any of them.

"Ok now, remember, tears are key." He glanced at the young boy dressed as Spider-Man. "Now, you can always try the 'you missed me' line, but remember, some of these older people are sharp and they may catch you. So only go there if chocolate is involved. Ok?"

They all nodded sagely at the wise man leading them. To them, at that point, he was the smartest man in the world. With a smile he stood up and let out a breath of air as he waited for the slight sting to subside. "Ok then, let's go and get some candy!"

All of the kids chorused their yells of joy and agreement. Behind him left a group of smiling parents, feeling slightly more relaxed at the prospect of letting their children participate in this program.

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Inside of his costume shop, Ethan sat, Indian style, on the floor. Arranged in front of him were all of the components he would need for the spell he was about to pull off. Under most normal circumstances he would be giddy with joy and excitement, but at the moment, his eyes looked to be miles away.

Ever since that boy had come in with Ripper's Slayer, he hadn't been able to focus properly. He had been excited about the prospect of meeting his ol' mate, Ripper, after so long.

He had done his research. He knew who most of they key players were to watch out for. He knew about Ripper and his young charges; well, he knew about them on paper. But, what hadn't been written down was damn near anything on that boy, Harris.

He hadn't been expecting much from the boy, and it had taken considerable willpower on his part not to gawk at the young man when he first walked in. Not many people would notice it. He knew that Ripper had basically severed all magical ties and connections he had to Chaos and most, if not all, of the dark arts. But still, something should have shone through.

That kid was basically a beacon of chaotic energy. His entire being just pulsed with it. What it meant, he had no idea. However, he was quite certain that whatever he had envisioned this night would bring would be completely altered by the presence of this child.

Ethan was beginning to feel that giddiness of anticipation. He decided to clear any thoughts pertaining to the boy out of his mind. This spell would take all of his concentration. He could always research the child and his ties to Chaos later.

His grin broadened as he began the ancient rites for the spell. He lit the essences and herbs. His chanting began to rise in volume. As his voice reached a crescendo, his ceremonial dagger flashed out in his hand, and bit into the palm of his outstretched hand. The blood trickled onto the bust of Janus before it began to seep into that same bust. As the two faced statue began to glow with an inward light, an enormous pulse of chaotic energy shot forth, and encompassed the town.

With sweat trickling down his forehead and a tired smile gracing his face, Ethan let out a pleased sigh before saying, "Showtime."

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As the wave of chaotic energy raced throughout the town, children and adult alike began turning into the costumes they had purchased at Ethan's in the recent past, pure chaotic terror began to spread town wide.

As that energy made its way and collided with the form of Xander Harris, a tremendous scream rented throughout the night. Any and all forms near him gave him plenty of space.

Writhing on the ground, the pain so extreme that is was unimaginable, Xander began to convulse and throw up, as all he knew, his entire world, became pain.


	3. Chapter 3

As the spell wove its threads through the town of Sunnydale, people were given false memories. Possessions began to reign supreme as costume wearers became the submissive, if not dormant, personality; to be replaced by the very essence of the one their costume represented. For others, the possession was not simply complete without the physical properties changing, forming a second skin around the wearer. With this new husk, and a new reigning personality, demons and monsters truly began to roam the streets on this night of All Hallow's Eve. As horrible and chaotic these circumstances were, none were changed more so than a singular individual.

The chaotic nature of Xander's very aura simply drew in any and all chaotic energy in the surrounding area. The result was one that no one could have foreseen; however, where chaos is concerned, a true ending can never be truly conceived.

It was almost fortunate that the spell would, at some point, shut out Xander's own consciousness. However, 'some point,' was far too long of a time to wait. The pain was so intense that it overrode any thought; chaotic or serene, it mattered not.

Xander's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he began to spasm. Food eaten earlier that day found its way back to the hard concrete. Veins were pulsing red and blue, becoming clear to any who would witness this horrific sight. Though, as luck would have it, no monster, demon, or any living soul would venture near this tortured body.

With these fierce spasms, bones and muscles would snap and reset within moments. Xander's very genetic make-up began to evolve and change into something entirely non-human. His structure became far more dense, his internal make-up foreign to what it used to be. While his muscular structure remained the same outward, within was a different case entirely. His very being changed into something that it was never meant to be; however, in the end, not a living soul could tell as the spasms came to an end and he lay peacefully on asphalt.

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Kent Farm, Smallville Kansas

A soft, warm, and motherly voice floated up to an unresponsive son.

"Clark, did you not hear me? Dinners ready!"

Shaking her head, Martha Kent made her way up to her son's study. Her eyes widened as she saw him asleep. Not that she expected much different, the past two weeks had been quite hectic for her son, but finding him asleep, while hovering midair above the couch, was a sight that she had not been expecting.

"Clark. Clark? CLARK!"

No amount of frantic yelling or physical contact could wake the hovering form of her child. With a frantic pace, and worry in her eyes, she went to find her husband. Perhaps Jonathan would know what to do.

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Sunnydale

A pained and exhausted groan escaped his lips. As his eyes slowly opened, the world seemed to crawl into focus. As his eyes began to focus on the colors of his surrounding environment, a pulsating headache began to form. Things looked different than they normally did. But slowly, very slowly, they were returning to normal.

With every breath he took, his chest constricted; muscles that had never been used before straining and complaining at new sensation. Clark clutched his chest with the slight pain. Closing his eyes, he tried to regulate his breathing until he could do so without the constant ache. Slowly but surely, he succeeded. Instead of the pulsating pain, his body just became a dull ache backed up by the massive headache that simply felt like it would never go away.

Slowly, Clark pulled himself from off the ground. While the strain was more than he was used to, he came to the realization that everything felt harder to do. It was as though he had been awake and running for god knows how long, and he was ready to drop and sleep for a decade.

The only thing that kept him on his feet, as steady as he was able to keep himself, was the adrenaline rush he was receiving from the scene that could only be described as chaotic, going on around him. His mouth hung open as he found tiny monsters chasing after screaming children and adults. There were large beasts and animals that seemed to be content on preying on the older crowd. And as chaotic as all this was, what surprised him the most was hearing a feminine voice shout out a name in his direction.

It was a name he had not told anyone about. Yet it was a name that he had not been able to get off of his mind since the young stranger had jumped in to save his life, and wound up opening his eyes to a world that existed far outside of the crazy messed up world he was already subject to.

"Xander? Xander, are you all right?"

Clark turned around. His eyes widened as he recognized the girl that had come to the hospital when Xander had been injured. Of course, now he knew he would never forget her. Well, not with what she was wearing tonight. He had judged her as the shy type, yet extremely protective and worrisome about her injured friend. Having her dressed in those clothes, shyness went right out the proverbial window.

Blushing slightly while looking at the ground, Clark stammered. "Um, ah, Willow, right?"

Willow stopped short at the sight of her best friend blushing and avoiding her eyes. She had seen him flustered before, especially when he put his foot in his mouth, but his mannerisms were definitely off. This was something she was sure of; after all, she knew him better than he knew himself. And beyond that, why did he sound so unsure of himself when simply asking her name?

"Xander, are you ok?"

While still looking at the ground, Clark furrowed his brow in confusion. She, Willow, had been calling out for Xander. Now she seemed to be under the impression that he was Xander.

Not much of the past few moments were making any sort of sense, but he was really beginning to get that bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was sure that his world was about to be turned around once again.

Glancing all around him for the young man, praying to find Xander, but knowing he wouldn't, he wasn't too surprised to find the same chaotic scene, but no young brown haired men standing around him.

It was then that he began to take notice of how many things were off, other than the obvious. He felt beyond sluggish; his head was pounding worse than any after-effect caused by meteor rocks. While he was feeling aches and pains, it was more like he had, and was still, stressing and stretching muscles after straining himself. Straining himself wasn't something that happened all too often. And afterwards, the feeling that he was currently experiencing never seemed to last more than a fleeting moment.

He glanced down at himself and quickly took note of something that was both wrong and important. He was currently wearing his varsity jacket he received for making the football team. While the jacket didn't fit like it normally did, that was almost missed when he realized that he had last left his jacket in Sunnydale. His musings were cut short by the scantily clad redhead just in front of him.

"Xander, are you ok?" As he looked up, she went on before he could answer. "Everyone seems to have turned into their costumes. Everything has gone so crazy."

Clark looked around him once again, and couldn't agree more. Everything was crazy, there was no denying that. He looked back at the worried redhead and asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Um, what was it you dressed as?" Both of their faces began to blush at the question.

"I was dressed as a ghost!" Clark's head snapped up as he gave her a questioning look. She blushed a little more but held his gaze with a worried one of her own. "Don't you remember me wearing the ghost costume, Xander?"

Clark shook his head with a sad expression on his face. "I'm afraid I'm not Xander."

Her hand went up to her mouth at his declaration. " Nononono, you are Xander Harris and we have beenfriendssincebeforewecanremember."

Clark had to shake his head. With his already pounding head, it was a bit difficult to decipher the end of her sentence. After a brief moment of silence, the end of her statement had finally been resolved into his own head.

Shaking his head, he repeated what he said earlier. "Look, my name isn't Xander, it's C-"

He never got to finish as Willow interrupted him. "Yeah, I know, it's Kent, Alexander Kent. Actually it's Detective Alexander Kent, but please believe me, that you really aren't a cop. You are my friend, Alexander HARRIS."

She was breathing hard, and he wasn't sure if that was ironic because she supposed to be a ghost, but he'd put off that line of thinking for a later date. She said that he was a cop, and that his first name was Alexander. He mentally snorted, of course Xander was short for Alexander; he had a friend who went by the name of Lex, he should have realized.

He was brought out of that useless line of thought when he noticed the slight pressure in the waistline of the back of his pants. Reaching back there, both he and Willow were surprised when he pulled out a gun. Being the person that he is, using a gun was never necessary, and even if it had been, shooting someone was something he wasn't sure if he could have brought himself to do. However, the protection the gun allotted, that being the ability to protect others seemed to flow through him. It was something he had always felt in the back of his mind. That feeling, that need, had been quite a driving factor in making him the man that he was today, but now that need, that feeling, seemed more pronounced.

Patting down his pockets he pulled out a leather holder that held a badge declaring that he was there 'To Protect and To Serve.' If there was any saying that better defined who he was, what he wanted to be, he couldn't think of it. However, the slight smile on his face when reading the inscription transformed into an expression of shock and dread when he read the name that identified the badge holder as 'Kal-El.'

He slowly closed the badge and put it back in his jacket. After emptying the bullets from the gun, he thought about throwing it away somewhere, but decided that could cause more harm than good, and placed it, empty, and back in his waistband under his coat.

He took a deep breath as he regarded the wide eyed redhead.

"Look, my name is Clark. As far as I know, I'm not now, nor have I ever been, a cop."

He took a deep breath as he regarded the chaotic scene. Off, just to his right was a parked car. With wide eyes, he made his way over to the reflection of the glass window. Not truly believing what he was seeing, he crouched by the side view mirror and took in the reflection of the young man who was not himself. It was the reflection of Xander Harris, and only one thought could course through his head at seeing what he really didn't want to think about, though he had already known this situation to be true.

'Smallville weirdness has nothing on Sunnydale.'

He stood up from his crouched position. The sounds of utter chaos raining all around them began to make its presence known. He quickly made his way back to Willow. The seriousness of the situation taking over any protests his body was still making. Though, truth be told, his body was feeling quite a bit better. There was still the pounding headache and the overwhelming exhaustion that made him believe that he, or Xander, could sleep for at least a month, to start with.

His statement was short and sweet and brought Willow out of her revere.

"We need to stop this." He waved his hand to envelope the chaotic scene surrounding them.

After trying to process as much as she could, Willow's eyes lit up.

"Buffy, we need to find her! She'll know what to do."

Clark nodded once. "All right then, let's see if we can find her. What did she dress as?"

A smile crossed Willow's face as she thought about the beautiful dress Buffy was wearing to impress Angel. Her smile turned into a frown of worry as the ramifications of what wearing such a dress might mean.

"She dressed up in a 16th Century gown." She shook her head, her worry plain for all to hear. "My god, she won't have a clue what's going on." Her eyes showing the urgency, she ran up to Clark. "We have to go and save her, make sure she's ok."

Clark nodded and then seemed to be listening for something. When he looked back up, he gave a quizzical expression before glancing back at the frantic read head.

"What direction was she when you last saw her?" After having what he thought reconfirmed, he nodded his assent and both of them took off at a quick pace; well, what was a quick pace for Willow, and what was a slow crawl for what Clark was used to.

Out from the shadows appeared a bleached blond vampire, in full vampiric visage. He smiled at his little minions; those minions being the unfortunate souls who had purchased a costume of demonic origin. It was sure to give them nightmares for a long time to come.

"Did you kiddies hear that? There's a hapless Slayer out there." He smiled his feral smile at the nodding mini-demons. "It'll be the sweetest hunt, the sweetest kill, and the finest blood you'll ever be privy too." His smile tuned into a full fledged smirk as he waved to his little hoard, while eyeing his vampiric minions hanging in the background.

"Come one then, let's go and bag us a Slayer!"

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To say that Willow was having a bad night would be the understatement of the century as far as she was concerned. If 'Buffy' called her a harlot, strumpet, and god knows how many other names, one more time, she was going to find some way to kill her. Corporeal or incorporeal, she really didn't care. She was smart, she'd figure a way to do it.

To make matters worse, Xander kept leaving them for a moment of time here or there. He'd make some lame excuse as they made their way to the library. Giles, Willow remembered, was one of the few people she knew that wasn't wearing a costume, and may know what was going on and how to stop this.

And to make matters worse, Angel had shown up just as Xander had gotten back from one of his periodic leaves of absences. She still wasn't sure how the guy kept disappearing on them, or where he was going, or how in the hell he got back without them knowing about it. There was simply a slight breeze and he was gone, or there was a slight breeze and he was back. The guy, Clark, was worse than Angel.

She had at first been glad to have Angel there. Lady McUseless seemed to cling to him when Xander wasn't around. They had been making their way towards the library when they were intercepted by a hoard of mini-demons.

Angel had been forced to show his true nature, causing Buffy to scream and run away, hopefully not into a 'demon car' and it was only the return of Xander, or Clark, that had chased off the rest of the demons and had been able to find and bring Buffy back.

Both herself and Angel seemed to be willing to knock her out and just carry her along, but Clark, or Xander, wouldn't hear anything of the sort. After that, she clung to him, giving him a good excuse not to explain how he kept disappearing and just how he had managed to ward off the kids turned monsters by looking at them. If she wasn't mistaken, they had actually left the ground smoking as they ran away. And all that he had to show for it was a pounding headache that he kept saying was making him dizzy.

Willow had thought that their bad luck might be turning around when, by chance, it seemed as though he knew who, or what, was responsible for all of this chaos, and had gone to take care of it. She had always known that Xander was hard headed about doing things the way he wanted, but it seemed that this Clark felt that all of this, and stopping all of this, was a responsibility that fell upon his shoulders. In a way, it reminded her of Buffy.

So here they were, Her, Buffy, Xander, or Clark, and Angel, all taking cover in the library. It was obvious that Clark wanted to get out there, what he was seeing, or hearing was beyond her. She figured the reason he wouldn't leave had something to do with the obviously untrusting glances he sent towards Angel's direction every ten seconds.

All of this she could have dealt with. It was Spike busting into the school with the theatrics he loved so much. It was utterly frustrating to watch her friends fight, or cower in Buffy's case, in the ensuing conflict.

To think, it was almost a blessing that the scared noblewoman had taken to hiding. When she had finally found her courage, it was at the wrong time, of course, and showed just how stupid, or perhaps panicked, she was. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her past the demons and outside. As Spike and a few of his vampiric minions began to gave chase, Willow's shout of 'Buffy' alerted the men in the room that things were about to get out of hand.

Willow was already making her way through towards the wall, ready to bypass the usual route out of the building, when she saw Xander, or Clark, plow through the minions between him and the door and make his way out of the room without any real pause. She shook off her surprise as Angel made a likewise move. If she had thought things were going to get better at that point, she was sorely mistaken.

Whatever adrenaline Xander, or Clark, had been on, seemed to fade away. Sure, a few good punches had damn near thrown that vampire for a loop. Now, however, it seemed as though that energy was gone. Xander was on the ground, and the blonde vampire had a malicious smile on his face as he choked the life out of her bestest best bud. Angel and Buffy were being held back by the minions and she was simply choking back her sobs as she helplessly watched the monster kill her friend.

Spike marveled in the feeling of having his hands around the kid's neck. There was something personal about watching the life slowly bleed from the body of a victim. Having the kid try to pry his hands away from the throat, a useless attempt, though still stronger than the kid had any right to be, almost gave him a euphoric state.

"Oh god, Whelp, I can't even tell you how good this is. It's so much more pleasing than I'd ever thought." He leaned in. "I can't wait for me and my Dru to have our way with your precious little Slayer before we drain her dry or turn her outright." He drew his head back, that malicious smile ever so present. "Tell me what do you think of that, Whelp?"

The struggling stopped and at first Spike thought that it was the end. It was when he actually looked deep into the eyes of his victim that he saw it. It wasn't the fear of death, it was the true realization of hate.

Clark had never outright hated anything or anybody. Not really; sure, there were people he didn't like, and situations that upset him. But hatred wasn't something that he had truly ever felt, not without red kryptonite at any rate. But he had come to a realization. As dangerous as vampires were to begin with, he 'HATED' this particular vampire.

Perhaps it was the stressful situation, the extreme exhaustion or the pounding headache, but he did something that he never thought himself capable of doing. He had had to use drastic action in the past, but it was never something he took pleasure in. And while there was nothing truly pleasurable about what he was about to do, he didn't feel that feeling of guilt that he would associate with committing a drastic action. Perhaps it was because he was 'Protecting and Serving' those around him. Perhaps it was because he needed to protect the body of the young man he was currently in. Perhaps he would lose sleep over this action later. But for now, it was an action that simply needed to be taken.

Spike was sure he was seeing things as the white rims around those brown eyes seemed to glow a yellow and red for a moment. In the next moment, there was only a searing heat and immense pain. He screamed the screams of the truly damned as his hands, once clenching the throat of his hapless victim, now covered his smoking eyes. Spike flung himself off of the prone form, his minions rushing over to him and carrying the cursing vampire away.

Just as Clark had begun to use his heat vision, the wave of chaos energy, that which had held the spell together pulsed and vanished. That which might have utterly destroyed the vampire merely wounded him severely.

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Xander felt the hands clenching his throat withdraw as a scream of pain and rage could be heard piercing the night. It was the last thing he was aware of before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and unconsciousness claimed him

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Above, in the realms beyond that of the mortal plain, a trial, or meeting of sorts, was underway. Their discussion was to be that of the chaotic entity that had come into their midst in the recent past.

Most had overlooked the young man as unimportant. And by the time his true nature as a chaotic wild card could be ascertained, a firm 'hands off' policy was implemented by none other than The Creator.

Now, things had changed; the wild card had been changed. What could be done, for good or evil? Could he be swayed or destroyed outright? Even if the direct hands off policy would still be in affect, it may be necessary to take an indirect approach to deal with this wild card.

In the background, a balance demon named Whistler shook his head with a hint of sadness. He had been watching the young man named Xander since his presence was first felt. He genuinely liked the kid, if for no other reason than the kid's dress sense. He also had the personality one could, and did, grow to admire. If one were to look.

The Powers and Oracles would only see what they wanted to see, and the end result would be thrust onto his shoulders. He truly hoped this turned out for the betterment of good, but somehow he knew that fear would win out.

As an agent of Balance, he knew he should abhor all aspects of chaos. However, was he the only one who could see the innate characteristic of balance within the reaction of chaos? Without chaos, a balance would never be achieved. And nowadays, in order to balance out the war between the light and the dark, the light needed the help. It had always been that way for as long as he existed. Perhaps that was why he felt as though he were really working on the side of light. Though, at times, he felt as though his assignments could extinguish the light in some of his charges. He just prayed, to whatever deity of the light might be listening in, that today's trial would result in a triumph for the light.

Because he feared that it was far more than the life of one kid that was on the line here.

Good or bad, balance or chaos; only time would reveal the result. He knew that the future was unwritten, but now was now. And now he had an important meeting to attend.

May God save his soul.


	4. Chapter 4

Metaphysical Plane

Whistler sat back as the 'meeting' went underway. He almost sighed out loud at how familiar this particular scene was. Well, it wasn't the first time there had been a mass meeting about this particular mortal.

"He should have been eliminated from the very beginning." The voice was deep, thunderous, and not just a small bit menacing.

This was how the meeting always began when discussing Alexander. Sure, the notion of what should have been done, but was not done, is a great way to rile up the crowd. Though, the truth of the matter was that, in the beginning, Alexander Harris wasn't even a blip on their radar.

That, in and of itself, was nothing special. With all of the billions of people in the world, there are a great many of them that will never show up on the radar of supernatural beings. Had Xander never encountered the supernatural, he could have been like many of the other inhabitants of the mortal realm.

There are many 'wild cards' at any given time. There aren't a set number, but you can be assured that there are quite a few out there. They are what keep the Powers, both the light and the dark, constantly updating their plans. However, as most wild cards have little or no direct contact with the supernatural, the indirect effects caused by their actions, can be contained. Though doing so can be a chore, in and of itself.

Alexander Harris, though, was a wild card that had basically immersed himself in the supernatural world. His first appearance as a wild card brought about quite a few changes. Though, no matter what thunderous voices proclaim, never truly brought about the need for such drastic action as directly intervening; in other words, killing the young boy.

"It is true; the Slayer was slated to die on that day." The melodious voice was just above a harmonious whisper, yet seemed to carry across the vast and endless landscape. "Alexander's being upon the surface, and pulling the Slayer into the safety of the sun's rays went against what was pre-ordained. Yet, this was discussed. I believe we made the proper decision then, to not go forward with any action."

There were quite a few murmurs, some in agreement while others could do nothing but disagree. At the time, most of the powers had been stunned by this rather large development. A Slayer had lived when they had been slated to die. Though, in the end, it made little matter. This Slayer would perish, as the Slayer was pre-ordained to do, fighting The Master.

Other events had to be rewritten on both sides. Instead of the souled vampire destroying The Vessel during The Harvest, the Slayer took his place. The darkness took advantage of the relationship that was never meant to be, and already seeds had been planted that may just return one of their own champions, and deal quite a blow to the forces of light at the same time.

Plans were changed and altered. This was not truly an uncommon task on both sides. So, as it was, the decision to let things 'play out' had been decided upon. The true upheaval began the day the impossible happened.

While events looked to be following the new paths laid out, those plans were being altered constantly. There was no way to get around the chaos generated by Xander's very being. He was a wild card, after all. Though both sides had the experience of countless millennia to use strategy and plan and re-plan, none could have been prepared for the true chaos that Xander could bring. The Master's cave was where it all happened. It was where everything had proceeded as planned, and it was where everything blew up in their faces.

The Slayer had died, drowned after being fed on by The Master. Her death had been prophesized long ago, though in truth it was the death of the Slayer, and not the death of Buffy Summers, in particular. Her death was something that seemed to be a fundamental truth. And, as it was such, the plans of both sides laid heavily on that truth. Two events occurred that should not, and by their combined knowledge, could not happen.

The first thing to happen was the resurrection of Buffy Summers. The force of chaos had used CPR to complete a task that should not have been possible. However, the mere fact that she was alive rendered speechless all those watching these important events unfold in dumbfounded shock.

The deafening sound of total and complete silence could be heard for an indeterminate amount of time when the second part, what became known as the most chaotic event in the history of this war took place.

The Slayer spirit was divided into two.

As far as any of them knew, such an event was not possible, let alone plausible. Once the Slayer spirit left the body, should that body be revived, it would no longer be a Slayer. They would be normal, completely and totally mortal.

It appeared though, that there was an indeterminate small amount of time, when the spirit existed both within the dead vessel, and outside, making its way to the next host. And it was in that particular moment, that exact nanosecond in time, that the Slayer's body was revived.

Part of the Slayer essence went back into the original host, while the rest of the essence made its way to the next Potential to be called. In this case, it was making its metaphysical way towards the Jamaican beauty who had been the one originally destined to die fighting The Master.

The essence that went back into the newly revived Slayer was not complete; however, what was missing was soon filled in, incorporated, by the very nature of the girl's soul. She was unique, a first. The Slayer essence within her would remain within her. Should she die, no new Slayer would be called. However, for the first time in recorded, and unrecorded, history there would be two Slayers.

Also, in an unexpected turn of events, the new Slayer would be unique as well. Without the complete essence being passed on, the emotional aspect of the spirit would be harder to control. It was fortunate, for the light, that Kendra was well able to control her emotions. They could only hope that when this essence was passed on, as it was the only one that would be passed on, that the next Slayer would be able to control her emotions as well.

As it was, a call for blood, Xander's blood, was made by the darkness. And, to Whistler, it was a sad fact that while the side of light did not vocalize their agreement, no objections were made either.

Had it not been for The Creator making her presence known, and a decree that went out forbidding any direct action be taken by any of them, or their champions, to make a play on this force of chaos, then Xander Harris would have conveniently met with an 'accident' shortly thereafter, and would never have survived long enough to become a 'household name' in the upper, and lower realms.

Plans that had taken Eons to create, and were constantly being changed had to be rewritten entirely. Those planners, both light and dark, cursed his name on a daily basis. Those in charge of the darkness were simply weary of him. His chaotic nature had, thus far, seemed to be helping out the side of the light. Those that fought for the light, Heaven's Armies, cheered for the young man.

Xander was a white hat, that couldn't be any clearer. His intentions were to fight evil and help his friends, those that fought for the light. That was something that got to Whistler.

Since his existence, as a balance demon, he had only ever worked for The Light. There had never been a time which he knew of, where the scales were not tipped in favor of the darkness. All he had ever known were actions that, he prayed, would at some point help those white hats.

Perhaps that's why he sat back and prayed for the young man who seemed to be an entity made to disrupt balance. Xander's chaotic nature, even as indirect as it was, made its presence known once more. For, had any of the upper beings been looking, they would have seen the chaotic nature of a balance demon's hopes as wishes.

Perhaps it is true that a good part of balance is chaos. For, in the end, should a balance be struck, it would be the harmonious nature of all things, including chaos. Perhaps it could exist, and perhaps it could not. The mere fact that an indirect action of this particular wild card could affect 'balance' in such a way is what caused any and all entities devoted to chaos to worship the young man.

Xander was in no way seen as a deity to these beings. However, prayers and thoughts were sent his way, if only to remember the deeds he had already accomplished, even unknowingly so. He had already brought about more chaos in this eternal war than had ever been witnessed or recorded in its eons long history. Beyond that, unknown to all, save one, it was the worship and thoughts given off by these powerful and chaotic entities that would bring about the biggest change.

It is widely known through the metaphysical plane that worship to a deity gives that being power. The same would be true for Xander. Though the young man in question would never be able to access this power, the effect it had on him, however indirect, was plain to see.

As Ethan Rayne had witnessed earlier that day, Alexander Harris was a veritable nova of chaotic energy. He was a spotlight in the dim glow of this chaotic town. It was this energy, this very aura, which had attracted the chaotic nature of the spell. It was this event that indirectly changed the nature of this game.

It was also why The Creator was about to step in once more. The player had been changed, but her decree had not. It was free will that caused Xander to purchase the gun and badge. It was free will that allowed him to wear the Kryptonian's jacket. It was free will and an indirect spell that lead to the circumstances that they currently faced.

It was Her Will that there be no direct action taken for or against the young man. It was Her Will that had not been broken. And, throughout these chaotic times, with so many things changing, it was Her Will that would be steadfast and unchanging, unyielding, through the ebb and flow of the chaos that suddenly surrounded them all.

The decree would be upheld. Their plans would be changed and events that were written would be re-written. It was only time, and Herself, that could tell what the future would bring. And as per usual, neither of them was talking.

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Kent Farm – moments after the chaos spell ended

Clark had always loved studying in the loft of the barn. It had a quiet and cozy atmosphere. An open window that looked out at the night sky had been able to keep him entranced for hours when he was younger.

Doing work and studying in his small area had become routine. It was where he found himself, relaxing and working on a Friday evening before his life and, in this instance, his parents' lives, were once again turned upside down.

Martha Kent had gone to check up on her son when he had not come down for dinner. She rarely ever needed to repeat herself. With his enhanced hearing, he could basically be anywhere on the farm and hear her when she called.

She had gone up into the loft, expecting to find her son asleep on the couch. The grin that had formed on her face at that thought was quickly wiped away to be replaced by a shocked and concerned expression.

With wide, unblinking eyes she had taken in the form of her son, hovering over the couch. No matter what she had tried, she couldn't get him to budge, let alone wake up.

With all the speed of a worried mother, she ran off to get her husband. However, he had not been able to wake up their hovering son, either. And that had been a while ago.

They were now standing in the far end of the loft, by the banister near the stairs, discussing just what should be done; what, if any, courses of action they had available to them.

The sad fact of the matter was that it was simply not possible not go to any outside venues for help. Any assistance that someone might be able to provide would simply lead to more questions, and problems, in the future.

Jonathan was going over that particular conversation in his head, just one more time, when a startled yelp, followed by a soft thud, finally ending with a more pronounced thud, broke him out of his revelry.

The patter of feet could be heard scurrying across the floor of the loft as Jonathan watched, amazed, as his wife made her way over to their now awake, and non-hovering, son.

'Wow, perhaps Clark picked up his speed from his mother's side of the family.'

He snorted to himself as he made his way over to his son, whose mother was basically huddled over him making sure that their, almost invulnerable, son wasn't physically hurt. The fact that he was only a few steps behind her never entered his mind, nor was the fact that he simply shoved the small table with Clark's books and pencils off to the side. He was vaguely aware of the sound of those books and pencils clattering on the ground. With more room to maneuver, he helped his wife and son up onto the couch, where Martha continued examining her now awake son.

Seeing as how Martha was busy checking over her son, Jonathan decided to pull the table over and use it as a seat. Once that was done, he looked back at his son.

"Clark, are you ok, son? What happened?"

His father's voice barely got through the incessant pounding in Clark's temples. His hands were currently clutching his head as the remains of a migraine began to leave his body. The thought of a migraine felt as though it should trigger something, but he wasn't sure what. Then his father's question, 'What happened?', got through to him, and a floodgate of events, more crazy than anything he could remember, with the exception of one time, not too long ago, began to assault his mind.

He had been back in Sunnydale, and it was today, tonight, since it was currently Halloween, and Willow had said something to the extent of dressing up in costumes. Man, and he thought the existence of vampires was weird. Now he had to face the truth about the existence of magic, ghosts, demons, and who knew what else that was out there.

Xander had actually been wearing his varsity football jacket when the spell had been cast. However, the fact that only certain people, who shopped at a certain store, the name of which eluded him at the moment, seemed to be the ones who were affected.

Then he remembered.

There had been a badge. Not just any badge, but a badge with his Kryptonian name on it. The feeling of having a gun with him was still just odd. But the thought of what the badge represented, 'To Protect and Serve', felt more real and just than he could have believed. When he thought about it, it was how he lived his life now, but it simply felt more natural at the time.

He shook that thought off as events replayed in his mind, from all the trouble they had tried to overcome, to the fights he had to partake in. To the vampires he had to kill, to the final fight he was just about to lose.

God, he had never felt so drained in his life. It wasn't like the few times he had been without power. He had a pretty good understanding that the sun played a great deal in keeping him energized; why else would a solar flare affect him so greatly? It was like he had been running on fumes from the moment he woke up in that chaotic environment. Thankfully, the pain had subsided fairly quickly, with the exception of the mother of all migraines, and that worried him.

If it was his Kryptonian physiology that enabled him to power up with the sun, and that was why he was so weak, would Xander revert back to normal?

Would Willow revert back to normal from her ghost-like state?

He had originally been taken somewhat aback by the attitudes of Xander's friends when he had first seen them in the hospital a couple weeks ago. But there was no doubt in his mind that the young redhead cared for Xander very much. The thought that she could stay dead, stay a ghost, was not something he wanted to truly contemplate.

Further more, he really didn't know what would happen if Xander didn't change back to normal. There hadn't been a doubt in his mind, while he had been occupying Xander's body, that he had all the abilities he normally possessed; he just lacked sufficient power to use them to their fullest extent. And by the end of the night, just keeping active was taxing on his depleted energy reserves.

He hated the thought of using his heat vision on anything, hell, even vampires, especially when they were so close, but at the time he saw no other course of option to take. He just prayed that Xander, however he was physically, was still alive.

The sound of his mother's frantic voice, questioning why he wasn't answering them, brought him out of his thought process, and thankfully, his headache began to subside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan had repeated his question a few more times, though it looked like his son wasn't paying any attention to him. It looked as though Clark was trying to settle what must have been the mother of all headaches.

It shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to him that, after asking the same question a few times, his wife only had to ask her son once, and he seemed to snap out from wherever he had been.

With a small grin on his face, and a sigh of contentment, Clark leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, and momentarily reveled in the lack of a headache. Of course, once that moment was over, he realized that he would have to explain to his parents what had happened, which would more than likely bring up what had happened in Sunnydale, both tonight and those few weeks ago. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, that was the need to check up on Xander and his friends. Though, from the extreme worry on both of his parents' face, something told him that more was going on than even he knew.

He gave his parents a curious glance. "What happened?"

Jon and Martha glanced at each other before it was apparently decided that his father would be the spokesperson of the group.

"Well, son, your mother came up here to get you for dinner. When she got up here, she found you unconscious and hovering above the couch." He spared a glance at his wife, who was nodding her head, a faraway look in her eyes. "When she couldn't get you to wake up, or budge an inch, she came and got me." He sighed and looked down at his hands before making eye contact with his bewildered son. "Clark, I really don't know what to tell you, but neither your mother nor I could do anything to wake you up. You were hovering over the couch, and we couldn't get you to move, in any direction. If you hadn't woken up just now, I don't know what we would have done."

Clark felt his mother's grip tighten on him as she tried to comfort herself with the fact that he was all right now.

"Clark, son, do you have any idea what happened?"

Clark looked at both of his parents before suddenly coming to a decision. Getting up from his position on the couch, he traded places with his father, so he could better relate what was going to be one hell of a tale.

"Ok, the first thing you need to know is that I am not crazy." As his parents exchanged a concerned glance at that somewhat disturbing statement, he continued before they could interrupt him. "What I'm about to tell you will sound crazy, even knowing everything we already know." A sheepish expression crossed his face as he admitted, "In fact, if not for tonight, I don't think I was ever planning on telling you this."

His parents exchanged another worried glance as he continued.

"Ok, this all started the day of the solar flare from a few weeks ago. As you know, I wound up in Sunnydale, California, but what you don't know…"

As Clark continued with his tale of that fateful night, he was aware of the fact that his mother wasn't quite sure what to make of all this. He was surprised, however, by the thoughtful look his father was currently expressing.

"So you are telling me that this boy, Xander, tried to save you from a group of vampires?"

Clark just looked at his father as he nodded his head. In a quiet voice he asked, "You know about vampires?"

His father was quiet for a few moments as Martha turned to look at her husband with wide eyes.

"Jonathan, you believe all of this." Her words were a statement of certainty, not a question.

With his eyes locked on Clark, he gave his wife a gentle squeeze. "I've never seen a vampire in my entire life." At that Clark looked down, not sure where his father was going with this. "However, this isn't the first time I've heard of them, and they were described in the exact same manner."

"Who else told you about them?" This came from his wife.

"My father; he used to tell me stories when I was younger, ghost stories and what not." He spared his wife a glance. "Whenever he got into stories about the war, and the monsters that he and his men had encountered, I just thought he was telling another story." Jonathan shivered slightly. "Though, the look in his eyes when he told it…"

Shaking his head, he continued, "Those stories were the only ones that gave me nightmares; that's why he rarely told them to me. But the descriptions he used to use are identical to what you said you encountered." He looked at his wife once more. "After all we've seen, heard, and done, I won't discount what Clark saw, what my father saw."

The only response he got was his wife's head against his shoulder.

Clark digested this information for a moment before shaking his head and continuing with his story.

"So, when I left the hospital, the doctors told his friends that he would be all right. That's the last I heard anything, until tonight." Martha lifted her head off of Jonathan's shoulder as the two parents traded another wary glance. Clark simply nodded. "Now this is where things really get weird."

Clark spent the next while relating the events that he remembered to his parents. He then went on to tell them his worries about Xander, Willow, and the rest. And last, but not least, the fact that, if he was able to use his abilities in Xander's body, then Xander may be able to use those abilities as well. Though, as a human or Kryptonian, was anyone's guess.

The rest of the night was spent talking and making plans. A trip to California seemed well deserved for an upcoming holiday. They just needed to stay off of everyone's radar, especially the Luthors'. And that was something that could quickly prove to be impossible.

However, one thing was certain. Clark needed to find out what happened in Sunnydale, and if everyone was all right.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Morning After Halloween

Consciousness came slowly as Xander let out a small whimper. There was a dull ache, more of a throb, pulsating along his entire body. That, however, went mainly unnoticed due to the fact that he couldn't find the energy to barely lift his head.

This was beyond being tired, it felt as though he had been running in the high summers heat at a full sprint for hours on end, and just when he thought he could have collapsed from the sheer exhaustion of it all, he was forced to crawl further through the blazing sun.

He allowed his body to sink further into the mattress he was currently laying atop of. Trying to get his mind off how completely drained he felt, he began to try and assess what in the hell was going on.

The last he knew, he was out walking the streets of Sunnydale escorting young children on their quest to hoard as much candy as possible. The sudden flash of fear as he realized that he was nowhere near those children caused him to open his eyes in a quick and sharp movement.

As he took in the scene around him, his heart began to slack in its pace of about twenty thousand beats per minute, to a far more sedate pace. His eyes scanned the room, his room, with minimal movement from his head. It had only been a short while, but already the room Giles had given him felt far more warm and 'homely' than he would have imagined, especially since he had never considered Giles to be the type of man who would be able to make a teenager feel at home. Perhaps it was the tweed that gave off that misconception, but in any case, he had been wrong. He wasn't sure if Giles actually knew teenagers that well, but the man certainly knew him far better than he would have thought, and in just a few days, had shown himself to be more of a father figure than Anthony Harris had ever been, not that doing so would have been that difficult. Getting back on topic, if he was in his room, then that meant that Giles and his friends must have had a handle on the situation, whatever that had been.

Xander's body gave an involuntary shutter as he remembered just how much pain had been involved before he had mercifully blacked out. He had no clue what had been the cause of such a thing, perhaps it was responsible for leaving him completely drained. However, since he was in his room, and not in a hospital bed, he had to assume that things weren't as bad as they could have been.

As he continued to lie in his bed, shifting slightly so he could see his body, which held not a bruise, he had to wonder why he was only in his white undershirt and boxer shorts he had worn the previous day. He only hoped it was Giles that had done this. If it had been one of the girls, well, he'd be kicking himself for years to come to miss such an opportunity. If not for the memory in and of itself, he's sure he could have gotten off more than a few wisecracks.

He was more than a little relieved to notice that he hadn't been horribly scarred by whatever it was that had attacked his body the previous night. He laid his head back upon his pillow, eyes scanning his ceiling, as he tried to remember what happened last night.

For all he could think, there were only whispers of memory, as cloudy as smoke and dissipated in the wind as he tried to access them, it was all for not. He could vaguely remember running around Sunnydale last night. But every time he tried to capture a memory, the feeling of a starting migraine would begin to form. Whether they were part of the memory or a cause of trying to remember, he wasn't sure. They felt faint, almost an echo of a true headache, and they too dissipated as he pulled his mind away from the fading memory.

After a few more minutes without any progress, he decided to give up. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there, but he was fairly sure that he should try and join the others, if for no other reason, than because he knew, without a doubt, that Giles would still be up and worrying about him.

With more of an effort and willpower than he new he possessed, he managed to get himself into a sitting position. His white shirt apparently soaked through as it clung to his clammy skin.

With his motions strained, he was able to pull the shirt off of him, and let it fall onto the bed next to him. He was forced to just sit there, panting, trying to get his breath back from such an easy activity, as a small amount of fear began to surge through his body. He prayed silently to himself, let this just be temporary.

He looked across the distance to his closet; it was just a few paces past his desk that lay next to the window at the foot of his bed. The horizontal strips, that comprised the shades for his window, seemed to let in a grid of sunlight separated by the horizontal slats. It was actually sort of cool how they seemed to go across his desk, floor and over to the wall. It was almost as if his room was being divided for him, a new goal to reach. He just had to get over to the other side.

With painstaking slowness he got onto his feet. He slowly ambled towards his chair, where the varsity jacket was once again resting atop of, and made his way to his closet. As he approached his desk, he body went rigid as his hand grasped the back of his desk chair.

He stood there for a moment, almost in a euphoric high. His eyes were closed and a warm feeling covered his chest as he could literally feel energy flowing back into his body. Opening his eyes once again he glanced down and saw the horizontal bars of sunlight covering his skin.

He could feel the warmth and energy surging through him, and before he realized it, he was outside his room moving with a purpose. His footsteps echoed throughout the house as he made his way down the stairs and towards the front door. He could faintly hear another echo of his name being called, but none of that mattered as he opened the door and was hit full force by the direct sunlight covering his entire body.

It was almost instantaneous at that point. When it first happened, it took him a second to realize just why he had been feeling so good when moments before he was straining just to take a step. He still wasn't sure how he knew it had been the sun, but his body sure knew it. Reveling in those first few strips of sunlight that he had been exposed to, he hadn't even noticed that he had made his way out of his room. It wasn't until after he had opened the front door, and stepped out into the sunlight, that he even became aware that he had moved.

However, once the sunlight hit his body, he was lost in the bliss of the situation. A warm smile cast about his face as he reveled in the heat and energy surging through his body. He could actually feel it happening. He had been so exhausted before, but now he felt as though he were on a sugar high, though this was natural and not sugar induced. It may have taken only a few seconds, but it was a lifetime of contentment for him. Then, as the feeling began to level off, he took in his first labor free breath, and came back to the world.

He glanced back with a smile on his face to see Giles frowning at him while studiously cleaning his glasses.

"Xander, are you quite all right? You gave us all quite a scare last night when you would not wake up." Xander just lifted an eyebrow at that as Giles continued, "And now I come to find you racing outside in your skivvies?"

Xander blushed as he nodded. "I'm not quite sure what happened, but I can tell you I feel great right now." Xander smiled as he saw the man relax slightly and let out a sigh of relief.

Giles gave a reassured smile. "I can not tell you how glad I am to hear that. We were all truly quite worried. But, I still must ask. What possessed you to go outside in nothing but your boxers?" Giles had to hide his grin as the young man just blushed a little more. His mouth moved, but no sound came out, finally, he couldn't help but to release a chuckle, he was just so glad to know that Xander would be all right. "Well, Xander, if you don't mind, I would suggest coming back inside and putting on some clothes before you wind up with an admirer in our Neighbor's young daughter."

Xander's eyes shot opened as his head turned around. And sure enough, there was the young girl; her own eyes wide open as she looked at him from inside her window of her own house.

With a shriek Xander bolted past Giles as his entire body began to blush. With a snicker and a laugh, Giles waved to the young girl with a smile on his face as he closed his front door.

As the door closed he leaned back against it, allowing his head to lightly graze the surface. For the entire night he had not gotten, or even tried to get, one moment of sleep. He had been so worried about the young man; he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing. It is one thing to be worried about your slayer and her friends when they are out patrolling for the undead, it is another thing entirely when the young man is here with you, and you haven't a clue as how to help.

For the millionth time since he had brought his young charge home and placed him in his bed, he cursed his old friend, Ethan, and hoped that the man got whatever was coming to him.

Breathing another sigh of relief, he made his way over to the telephone. He had a few calls to make. He knew Joyce would be awake, if the woman had even bothered to go to bed either. She had called a few times during the night asking for progress reports on his condition, still not sure why they weren't taking him to a hospital, but not disputing it for now. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they were forced to bring Joyce into the secret life of her daughter, and that was something he truly dreaded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Xander, may I come in?"

Xander glanced to his closed door from his open window, the sun still beating down on his bare chest.

"Yeah, Giles, just give me a minute."

Moving over to his dresser, he put on a 'work out' shirt before throwing the sweat soaked shirt into the hamper in the corner of his room. Walking over to his closet, where a towel was hanging on a hook glued to the door, he wrapped it around his waist.

"Ok, Giles, I'm decent."

Ever so carefully, the door opened. "I wonder, may have a moment of your time?"

Xander blinked as he noted that Giles was actually standing there, in a nervous fashion, his glasses were already off and the man was profusely wiping them. Xander wasn't quite sure just what to say, so he simply nodded his assent.

Walking gingerly over to the bed, Giles sat down on the corner, taking that as his cue; Xander pulled his desk chair out and placed it just a few feet away from the older man.

"I, I am glad that you are feeling better. You are, truly feeling better, aren't you?" At Giles's inquisitive look, Xander simply nodded. "I expected as much." The man seemed to stammer, but simply made himself go on. "I am not sure if you are aware of this, but the wound you received by those vampires, just a short time ago, are no longer scarring your body."

Xander's eyes widened in surprise; in all of the excitement, that was simply a fact he hadn't noticed. Getting up from the seat, he walked over and closed his bedroom door, revealing a full length mirror on the other side.

Untucking his shirt from the towel he had wrapped around his waist, he pulled it up to reveal, as Giles had said, unblemished skin. "Wow," he breathed. He ran his hand gingerly over where the scar had been. There was no longer any pain. He could vaguely recall not feeling any strain on his body, once he had been subjected to sunlight, but the fact that the usual pain and stress his body had simply gotten used to due to his injury, was no longer present. It was quite a bit to take in. Pulling his shirt back down, he made his way back to his chair.

"I don't know what to say."

Giles nodded at this. "I am not sure that there is much for you to say." Still, Giles looked a bit uncertain. "You truly do not feel any ill effects from last night?"

"No G-Man, I promise you, I feel fine." He seemed to think for a moment. "Actually, I really can't tell you the last time I felt this good.

Giles gave an audible sigh of relief, completely forgoing the usual insistence of not being called 'G-Man.'

"I am glad to hear that, you have no idea how worried you had us, how worried you had me."

Xander looked down as if he were to blame for putting them through that, then his head came up with an inquisitive expression from the end of Giles' statement. Giles, however, was looking down at his own hands, trying to gather his thoughts and missed the play of emotions that passed through Xander's face.

"I know that we have never truly talked." Giles began to stammer. "How-however, last night, I spent most of my time in here, sitting in the chair you now occupy." Giles looked at him and shrugged. "I suppose with there being not much I could do, all that I could do, was sit back and think about things."

Xander had no idea what to say, he had no idea where this was going.

"I am amazed how much my perception of you has changed in the time we have known each other. I am afraid to say, that from when we first met, I had terribly misjudged you." His glasses were back on his head, and he was wringing his hands together. "When you first joined Buffy, which was not something that I had looked favorably over at the time, I had thought that this would simply be a quick experience for you. It may have been something to take out your aggression and anger, over having lost one of your closest friends. I thought it would be simply a quick phase that you and Willow would get over."

Xander gave a somewhat affronted look, to which Giles simply gave a small grin and an apologetic shrug.

"I had heard stories, and even witnessed on a few occasions, when you would throw yourself into a situation, where you would not come out of it, at least somewhat unscathed." Off came the glasses once again. "I have to admit, when I first saw that, it was not the fact that you had most likely saved my, our, slayer, but I had worried that there may be some…suicidal tendencies to your actions."

At Xander's alarmed look, he simply waved him off.

"It was soon after that I dissuaded myself from such notions." Xander nodded with a relieved sigh. "Time and Time again, both you and Willow, and indeed Buffy, have shown such tremendous courage when facing demons, and impossible situations that were so far out of your depth, that any sane person would have turned away. But again and again you all moved forward, and indeed become victorious."

"I had been told, from an early time when training to be a Watcher, that you must keep a degree of separation from your charge, but I find that I simply cannot comply with such a request."

Placing his glasses back on, he gave a steady gaze at the young man in front of him.

"I am in awe of you constantly. Each day something new is thrown your way, and yet you, all of you, are able to pull together and overcome it. As much as I feel in awe of you, I still worry twice as much." He sighed and looked down. "I worry about you, Willow, and Buffy, when you patrol each night. I worry about you as you throw yourself headfirst into the next demon you encounter." Giles looked up, and his eyes seemed to bore into Xander's soul. "I was worried about you when I noticed your absence the night you went after Buffy and into the Master's Lair. But even then, I had to contend with that worry against the fact that The Hellmouth was opening."

He shook his head.

"When that blasted portal began to open, all of my worse fears became real to me. For that to have happened, I knew that Buffy must have been killed, and with you going down there, I did not truly believe in any chance of you coming out of there alive. I can not thank you enough for showing the courage you displayed by your actions that night, nor can I express the regard I hold you in for going through with it, never mind the results."

He looked back down.

"But still, I worry. Even still, no matter how much you have overcome, no matter how many demons you face, I will still worry." He glanced back up and was forced to take off his glasses once again. "I can not even begin to relate to you just how much I was worried last night. To be here and to not be sure that you would survive the next minute. There were many times when I believed that you had drawn your last breath, your body was so still, but then you would breathe another."

"I had all night and this morning to think about the past, and about how I feel. I had time to think about all of the things I should have said to you, to all of you. I wanted you to know, before I loose my courage, that having gotten the chance to know you, in the short time that I have, you are most likely the closest thing I will ever have to a son."

He held up his hand, not even waiting to see if Xander was going to respond.

"I have never gotten along well with my Father. He did not agree with many of my choices of my youth, from which, he was entirely correct, though, in the end that mattered very little. I have yet to talk to him in many years, yet still, I do believe that family is important."

Placing his glasses back on, he made to stand up.

"I, I have had quite a few hours to ponder this, and I simply wished that you should know; and that you have made me prouder than I could have ever made my own father."

He had only taken a step towards the door when an almost silent cough brought his attention to the other occupant in the room. Xander was no longer sitting in his chair; he was standing in front of it, with a lost expression on his face.

Giles simply stood there, not sure if he truly should have shared that with the young man, but in the end, glad that he had. He could only hope that in time, he had earned the same regard in the young man that had already been instilled in him.

"I know what you mean." The voice was quiet a bit horse. "At least, I think I do." Xander's face cleared as he stared at the older man. "The one thing I could never call The Harris's and that would be family." He seemed to shrink in on himself. "I never considered blood family to be 'family.' The closest I had, have, is my Uncle Rory."

Brining his arms together against his chest, Xander seemed to hug himself.

"I would have to say that I never saw my family as having a mother or father. The closest thing I had to a family members were Willow and Jesse." A small smile spread across his face as he looked up at Giles. "Did you know that Jesse and I would always call each other 'Bro.'?" Giles simply shook his head, causing Xander to shrug. "To most people, it would be just another way to address a friend, but to me, to us, I'm sure it meant something different, something more."

Now it was Giles who was simply not sure what to say, so, he simply stood there.

"So, I do know that family can, and is more than blood." Xander's eyes seemed to darken. "When I think about a father, my father, I think of eyes that are simply uncaring. I think of never being noticed, or not wanting to be noticed." Now he was smiling slightly. "So, I was a bit surprised when I could see the clear relief visible in your eyes when we returned from Patrol on more than one occasion. I think I've become better than average at reading just what people are thinking of me at a given time." He shrugged. "I've never been around an adult like you, someone who actually seems to care."

Xander looked some what guilty as he shrugged an apology.

"Though, I really don't know about a father-son bond." Xander winced. "And that isn't you, but I can't honestly say what that sort of relationship would be like, other than what I see on television." Xander now found himself staring at the floor. "I do know that of all the adult males I've ever known, you're definitely the closest to a 'father figure' that I've come to know and respect. I don't know if that's what you're looking for, but…" he trailed off.

It wasn't until a pair of hands firmly placed themselves on his shoulders that he looked up. He couldn't help but to give a small hopeful smile at the wide grin plastered on Giles face.

"That, my boy, is an excellent place to start."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was soon after that warm, yet semi-awkward moment that their day truly began. Giles left the room informing Xander that his friends had been contacted and told about the improvement of his condition. After a brief moment, Xander decided that he'd call his friends once he had finished taking a quick shower.

The phone calls went surprisingly well. Willow hadn't been nearly as stressed as he thought she'd be. So, instead of every other sentence being a reassurance as to his current welfare, he was only forced to chuckle an, 'I'm fine' to every third break in the conversation.

Buffy, like Willow, had sounded worried about him, which was nice. However, it took a lot less to convince her that he was in fact doing fine. Though, a part of him knew how hard she had taken it when he had been injured just a few weeks ago, as she did whenever anyone got hurt and was unable to prevent it, he knew that she would be taking it extra hard that 'he' got injured in some way.

He was simply not looking forward to the mothering that was sure to come his way, especially when it came from Buffy. She had a way, as unintentional as it seemed to be, of making him feel less that useless while she was trying to talk him into laying back and 'keeping safe.'

Hanging up after talking to her, he had to laugh. She was determined, as today was a Saturday, to go out and shop. She decided that she really needed some new clothes to counteract the way she felt from her noble princess that she had become the previous night.

He had been able to beg out of going along, knowing that she wouldn't go along, as she'd easily be able to persuade Willow to go with her, Xander now had the morning, and 'oh god' he was not a morning person, and the afternoon to himself. Well, himself and Giles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Making his way into the kitchen, Xander found Giles already sitting at the table reading the morning's newspaper while eating an English muffin with some Jam. A steaming cup of tea was set just off to the side.

"Hey, G-Man, what's the what for the day?"

Giles gave a hesitant smile, trying not to grimace as he realized that he hadn't a problem piecing together what they young man had just said.

"Well, assuming you are still feeling well, you are still feeling well?" Xander rolled his eyes as he reached into the refrigerator to grab a carton of orange juice, but smiled and nodded to the worrying man as he made his way to grab a glass and join him at the table.

"Yeah, I'm feeling fine. I promise."

"Ah, well, good." He put the paper down. "Sadly, because of the chaos that was Halloween, I was unable to finish the work I wanted to do last night, when Willow found me and told me what was transpiring." He took a sip of tea. "If you are indeed all right, I would like to go back and finish last night's work."

Xander shrugged. "That's fine with me. If anything does go wrong, the school isn't that far away."

"I do suppose you are correct." Giles tilted his head, sending Xander an inquisitive look. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Thankfully I got out of having to go shopping with the girls." Even Giles let out an involuntary shiver. "Though, we are planning on meeting for lunch." He chuckled and gave a pointed look to the older man. "We even planned to meet at the school library."

Giles gave a slight blush. "Yes, well…"

Xander shrugged again. "I'm not too sure. I haven't been up to watch Saturday morning cartoons in a while." He smiled. "Who knows, perhaps I'll even do a laundry today."

They both chuckled as it had been an utter shock when Giles learned that Xander actually knew how to do his own laundry. Though, a darker portion of Giles' mind supplied, knowing Xander's parents I have recently come to, it is not that much of a reach to believe they had him doing such chores at an early age.

However, for whatever reason, Xander never minded doing laundry, stating that it actually seemed to calm him as a child. Though, that could have been partly due to the noise the vibrating machines would make drowning out the other noises that were always raging in the Harris household.

Though, in the end, it was a chore that Xander didn't mind doing. Though Giles had been adamant about taking care of his own clothes, which Xander had made a comment about how those Tweed Suites better not be contagious and infect his clothes. To which Giles replied with a comment about keeping those Hawaiian shirts away from his clothes, lest they come alive and devour all of the proper clothes. Xander had just shrugged; perhaps they would be related to the Sock Demon who lived in their dryer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giles had left a short while later, leaving a fair bit of money for Xander to see when he got done putting his load of laundry into the washing machine and came into the den to watch TV.

He found it almost impossible to get Xander to accept money from him, but he figured that would simply change over time. It wasn't as though he would ever have a money problem in the foreseeable future. Being a Giles' meant more than just inheriting good looks, as his grandfather, god rest his soul, would always say.

So, leaving a note telling him to spend some money and enjoy his day, he yelled down to the young man he had recently confessed to thinking of as a son, and receiving a reply, left to go towards the mouth of hell, and his previous day's load of work.

Xander came into the den, flicked on the television, and saw the money, and note, resting on the table. Picking up the note, he wasn't sure if he should smile, roll his eyes, or leave a thank you for Giles' generosity. It simply felt weird. He wasn't used to other peoples' generosity towards him, especially when that generosity came for no apparent reason. Lord knows his father would never have shown him this, or any, amount of generosity.

With a sigh and a quickly scribbled 'Thank You' he plopped himself down on the couch ready to watch some cartoons and feel like a kid again.

It was only a few minutes later that he realized he was simply to full of energy to sit around and watch television, which he hoped wasn't a lasting side affect of the previous night, he loved watching television, it was something he was quite good at.

After toying with the idea of calling Giles and informing him of this 'hyper status,' Xander decided to simply write a note, in case Giles returned home early, and go outside to run off some of this excess energy. Should this condition prove to more than a temporary one; he'd simply go to the library after his run, and inform the man of this latest development.

With that in mind, he left and locked the house, heading down the street at a brisk jog.


End file.
